The Broom-closet
by tkepner
Summary: Not long after Harry is revealed as a Parselmouth in 2nd year, a cynical girl drags the surprised boy into a closet. Hermione, fearing Harry has been cursed or poisoned, demands he tell her what happened. What she finds fundamentally changes their relationship. The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. Non-consensual & consensual sex, not too graphic. H/Hr.
1. Chapter 1 - The Broom-closet

_Not long after Harry is revealed as a Parseltongue in 2nd Year, a disillusioned girl drags the surprised boy into a broom-closet. Hermione, fearing Harry has been cursed or poisoned, demands he tell her what happened. What she finds fundamentally changes their relationship. The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. Non-consensual &amp; consensual sex, not too graphic. H/Hr._

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_Some short scenes from "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" by J.K. Rowling, are excerpted in this story. They are used here with her and her publisher's kind forbearance. The characters, scenes, and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing of the story except perhaps its deviations from J.K. Rowling's plot._

**NOTE: References to non-consensual and consensual sex. Be Forewarned.**

**Second Note:**_ To those who don't think such things are plausible (i.e., that young children engage in sex), primitive societies routinely view 6 and 8-year-old-girls as "ready" for sex — see the Trobrianders, ISIS – Sharia Law). As for modern-age kids age 12 &amp; 13 being interested in sex — as I wrote this the news had a story about a 13/12 year-old couple in Britain having a baby, where the girl became pregnant at eleven. They had apparently started having relations while the girl was ten. The youngest pregnancy on record is Lina Medina, age 5. Search "youngest father" and "youngest mother" on Google for other examples._

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**❤ The Broom-closet ❤**

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_If all the young ladies were bricks in a pile _

_ . . . I'd be a mason and lay them in style._

Hermione was worried. Harry had promised to meet her in the library after his visit to Hagrid and he should have been here an hour ago. She had started to gather her things and put away the books so she could go to dinner when she realized Harry had never arrived. Ever since the whole "Chamber of Secrets" thing started and students were petrified, and especially since that Dueling Club fiasco a month ago when the whole school had learned he spoke Parseltongue, she had been worried someone would attack him with a serious attempt to kill him. The Slytherins were bad enough, but now she worried about all four houses!

Quickly, she finished putting things away and grabbed her bag. She would check with Hagrid first, then the Great Hall, and end with the Common Room. If she still couldn't find him, she'd check a few of his favorite hiding, er, thinking, places. If she still didn't find him, she'd go to Professor McGonagall. If it turned out that he forgot and was off flying his broom or doing something else equally stupid, well, she'd just kill him for worrying her!

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She found him on the fourth floor as she came down from the Gryffindor Common Room and glanced down the corridor to the Library. He was disheveled and walking slowly, very unlike his normal quick pace.

"Harry!" She ran up to him. "What's wrong? Did Malfoy do something?"

He jerked away from her, "I'm fine."

She studied him carefully. There were red marks on both sides of his neck and he blushed as she looked at him. Blushed?

"Harry," she said in a low tone, "What. Happened?"

His face turned even redder. "Nothing!" he insisted.

She folded her arms and glared at him. "I don't believe you. What did Malfoy do?"

He sighed, "Malfoy did nothing. I haven't even seen him since lunch." He guiltily fidgeted under her gaze.

"Then Crabbe or Goyle?"

"No, haven't seen them either." He refused to meet her eyes.

Definitely, he felt guilty about something. "They ambushed you!" She gritted her teeth, she was so going to hex them all the next time she saw them. Her wand was in her hand and she didn't even remember grabbing it.

"NO!" He turned his back to her and she saw a faint scratch starting on his neck and disappearing under his robes.

She darted around in front of him. "Oh, no you don't! You're not getting away from me until you tell me what happened! In detail!" She glared at him, arms crossed, foot tapping the floor.

He gulped. He knew he was in trouble. And it was too late to rush off. She'd just tackle him.

"Okay," he said, looking away again. He stood silent.

"WELL?" she demanded.

He took a deep breath, let it out, then took another. He closed his eyes. "Agirlpulledmeintoabroomcloset," he said quickly and quietly.

Hermione almost missed what he said, it was so low.

"WHAT?!" she shouted.

He cleared his throat. "I said," he took a quick breath, "Agirlpulledmeintoabroomcloset."

Hermione stared at him. The salient words floated through her mind and connections were made: Girl. Broomcloset. Bruises on the neck? Hickeys! Scratch on the back? Snogging, serious snogging! Snogging? Snogging! Some slag of a witch was snogging _HER_ Harry? Unacceptable!

She grabbed his hand and started marching down the corridor, away from the stairs, dragging the confused boy behind her.

"Hermione! Hermione?" he said, "Where're we going?'

She ignored him and he fell silent again. She was in one of her moods and nothing he or Ron could say would break her out of it until she was good and ready. He would just have to wait and see.

She looked at every door they passed until finally she stopped in front of one, and flung it open. She pulled him inside. She gave the room a quick look to make certain it was empty, then waved her wand and banished the dust, leaving the room sparkling clean.

Harry blinked. She must be really mad to get that sort of instant results.

She turned and faced him. "Who?" she demanded.

He blushed red again, "I don't know," he mumbled.

"You don't know? YOU DON'T KNOW? You spent who knows how long snogging a girl in a broom-closet and you don't know who it WAS?" She was going to kill the girl as soon as she could find her.

He shrugged, "It was dark."

"Dark? It was DARK? THAT'S your excuse?"

Now he started to get defensive, "Hey, you try and identify someone when you can't see you own hand in front of your face."

She took several deep breaths while glaring at him. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Of course he couldn't see the girl. Unless she was a brainless idiot she could easily arrange things so he wouldn't see her face. Analyze.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said quietly. "It just seems so strange." Yeah, since the incident during the dueling demonstration practically the whole school went out of their way to _avoid_ him. And here was a girl going out of her way to _grab_ him for snogging? "Please, tell me exactly what happened." She looked at him with wide, puppy-eyes. It almost always worked when she did that to her parents.

"I can't," he whispered. He fidgeted, looking everywhere but at her.

"You can't," she said flatly.

He gulped. He was rubbish at standing up to Hermione unless he was really pissed off himself. If he told her, she was going to throw a truly impressive wobbly, but if he didn't. . . .

"She said I shouldn't tell anyone, that there would be. . . consequences if anyone heard about this."

With narrowed eyes, Hermione stared at her best friend. Okay, if that's what it would take. She whipped up her wand, "I swear I will be unable to tell anyone what you tell me about what happened in that broom-closet without your express permission. So mote it be!" There was a flash of light. She had destroyed his argument that he couldn't tell anyone. And left herself plenty of room to wipe the floor with the bint when she found her.

Harry stared at her, astonished.

"So, what happened? Start at the beginning."

He hem'ed and haw'ed for a minute, looking everywhere but at her. His face turned redder and redder as his blush deepened. She glared at him, waiting. Finally he gulped and started talking. "I had left Hagrid's hut — we had a really long talk about my parents. Did you know that my dad and his friends once pranked a professor by. . ."

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Quit stalling."

He sighed, and nodded his head. His face was almost as red as Ron's hair. "I was headed for the Library. I had just reached the fourth floor and started walking down the corridor. Someone grabbed my right hand and dragged me into the broom-closet. I never saw them, they were invisible."

Hermione frowned. It couldn't be an invisible cloak or he would have seen her hand. It was probably a disillusionment charm, those were NEWT level charms. That meant none of the students without OWLs would know about or use it. Probably. So, a girl from sixth or seventh year most likely. That meant about fifty possibilities, given that the sixth and seventh class sizes were larger than Harry and hers because the slow start to the war eleven years ago hadn't had much of an impact at first.

"Once we were inside the door closed, but it made no sounds, so I guess it was silenced."

Naturally, the witch wouldn't want anyone to hear them.

"It was dark and I couldn't see much, but she was invisible so it didn't matter. I jerked from her hand and went for my wand." He sighed. "She must have grabbed it from my pocket with one hand while she grabbed me with the other in the corridor because it wasn't in my pocket."

Again, naturally. It was what she would have done. And his back pocket was a stupid place for his wand, anyway. Anyone could sneak up behind him, flip his robes aside, and snatch the wand.

"Before I could do anything else she grabbed my face in both hands, said, 'Now Harry, there's no reason to panic. You're gonna love this.' And then she kissed me."

He paused and took a quick look at Hermione to check for her reaction. Hermione was frowning. HE was blushing so much she could almost feel the heat from his face. He gulped again.

"How tall was she?"

"How should I know? Taller than me is all I can say."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, _everyone_ is taller than you! Even this year's First Years are taller than you!"

"Oi!" He tried to look outraged.

"Well it's true!"

His shoulders slumped, "Yeah, I know."

Hermione stepped up to him and stared at him for a moment. She took a breath. No way out of it, she had to do it now. "Look," she reached up and grabbed his head, she tilted it back a little as she leaned down and pecked him on the lips. "Was it like that, or," she pushed him down, making him slump, she tilted his head farther back and pressed her lips to his, "was it more like that?"

Harry stared up at her, flummoxed by her actions.

She stepped back and quickly transformed a chair into a step stool, then stepped up on it. She was now a full head higher than he was. "Or was it like this." She grabbed his head again, then tilted it way back and kissed him again. She breathed as she drew back. For some reason she felt it was getting hot in here.

"Er, um, uh, yeah, it was sorta like that, uh, the last one," he finally managed to choke out, still stunned at Hermione kissing him.

Okay, given that Harry was about four feet and four inches tall that meant the bint had to be five-foot and four inches tall. Definitely an upperclass-girl. Unless it was Millicent Bulstrode, she was that tall already. Hermione shuddered at that thought. Fortunately, Bulstrode probably didn't know the disillusionment charm. Still it cut down the number of girls to about thirty sixth or seventh year students.

"Was it just a quick kiss, like those?"

He had almost returned to a normal color, but at her question the boy flushed redder. "Um, no, it was a bit more than that."

"How much more?"

"Um, longer? And. . . more?"

Hermione had to take a steadying breath before saying, as casually as she could, "Show me." She had to know just what that bint had done to _her_ Harry. And if that meant getting a serious kiss, well, it wasn't like that would be a bad thing, now was it? It was all for finding out what that bint had done, so if she had to make a few sacrifices, that was what it would take, right?

"What!" Harry was aghast at the demand. "Show you?" he managed to choke out. His complexion was beet red, again.

Hermione almost backed out at that point, Harry sounded soo appalled. Didn't he want to kiss her? Did he think she was too ugly to kiss?

"I can't do _that_!" He gulped, "You're my _best friend_!"

Oh. His friend. His _best_ _friend_. She stared at him perplexed. "You can't kiss a friend? That's the silliest thing I've heard all year!" It made her feel warm inside that he considered her his best friend. _Take_ that _you stupid bint_, she thought at the other girl.

"I mean, I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage . . . , I mean you're special, I don't . . . I mean . . . I mean . . . I don't know know what I mean!" he finally said in desperation, still blushing madly. He was still looking everywhere but at her, except to take quick peeks to gauge her reactions.

Hermione stared at him. She realized she'd never get him to tell the whole story like this. He would just get flustered and embarrassed and then clam up tight. The only way to get the story would be to keep him off-balance and distracted enough so that he wouldn't shut up in embarrassment.

"Okay, let's do this." She grabbed his hand and headed out the room. She looked both ways for a moment, then headed back the way they came. Harry followed along docilely, his mind obviously still going in circles around the "show me" demand.

They stopped in front of fourth floor broom-closet. She yanked open the door and looked in. How odd. It was much bigger than she had imagined. It was about six-feet deep and wide, with a set of shelves on her left that were only partially filled with cleaning supplies. A set of brooms and mops were on hangers on the right wall with wheeled mop strainers and buckets below them. In the back corner was a square floor sink with extended faucet. The small room was at least twice as deep as it needed to be, and was absolutely spotlessly clean. It looked innocuous enough until she stepped in and immediately noticed that the floor was _cushioned,_ like she was walking on a mattress!

She pulled Harry in, closed the door, and cast her own silencing spell on the door as well as locking and notice-me-not spells. She did _not_ want them interrupted!

"Okay, Harry," she said turning to face him. The dim light from under the door let her see the barest outlines of his head. Definitely too dark to make out his features. She was slightly mollified about his comment that he hadn't seen the girl's face.

"We're going to re-enact what happened, exactly as you remember it. Pretend I'm that girl. I'm not Hermione, I'm _that_ girl." That bint, she thought to herself. "We're just re-enacting what happened, that's all. So, how did she kiss you?"

"Well, er, um, . . . ." He stammered and came to a dead halt. Silence.

They would be in here until tomorrow at this rate, she decided. Besides, anything that bint could do, she could do better because she was the smartest witch in the school. She grabbed his head and pulled him close, leaning down and pressing her lips to his.

For a moment he had no reaction, then, surprisingly, he pressed back.

It was kinda nice, actually, she decided. A bit like she had fantasized. Then she felt his mouth open slightly and his tongue touch her lips. Rationalizing that that scrubber would do the same, she opened her mouth and pressed her tongue to meet his.

One of the trashy romance books her mother liked to read and had left lying around her bedroom had been a comical farce and referred to this as tongue-wrestling. At the time Hermione had been a bit nonplussed as to why anyone would want to do that.

After a few minutes, Hermione had a new appreciation for the activity. What astonished her was how long that boy's tongue was, she could swear he was touching her tonsils without even trying!

Finally, they drew apart, both breathing hard. It was unaccountably hotter in the closet than it had been when they arrived. It took her a minute to remember what they were doing here. She cleared her throat and took a calming breath, "E'hem, ur, then what happened?"

"Huh?"

Harry appeared as distracted as she was. Good, then maybe she could get him to tell . . . show her what had happened without too much fuss. "

"Oh. Well, while she was kissing me, I started to push her away."

She couldn't see in this dim light but from his silence she was sure he was blushing. He seemed to be doing a lot of that.

"And. . . ?" she prompted.

He swallowed and stammered out, "Uh, I touched her, um, her, her breasts."

Swallowing, Hermione stepped closer and huskily said, "Show me." She wasn't going to let that scrubber get away with what she had done to Harry! "Remember, we're just re-enacting what happened." She felt her face get hot as she blushed.

She could hear him gulp as she leaned down and kissed him again. She felt him lift his arms tentatively push against her breasts. She pulled back from his lips and whispered, "That isn't much of a push." And resumed kissing him. He mashed her breasts under his palms, rubbing them. That felt sorta nice, especially with him doing it. It seemed to get even hotter in the broom-closet.

She released his lips to ask, "And then what happened."

He was silent. He hesitantly responded, "It wasn't so much . . . what happened . . . as what I . . . discovered." His breathing was ragged. And he seemed to have difficulty speaking.

She rested her forehead against his, breathing deeply "And what was that?"

He was silent for a long time. Just as she was about to prompt him again, he said, very quietly, "I was touching her bare breasts." His hands were still on her breasts. Had he forgotten?

"Her _bare_ breasts?" Hermione whispered back.

"Uh huh."

She could feel his breath on her neck, raising goosebumps down her arms. That bint was in soo much trouble when Hermione caught her. There was no way Hermione was going to let her get away with that! Harry was _her_ best friend! She considered her options. Well, if she wanted to find out what had happened after this she needed to do what that _other_ girl had done!

If they stopped now he would clam up and she'd _never_ find out the full story. It's what he always did when he didn't want to tell someone what had happened to him. He would evade the questions, then later pretend to misunderstand or not hear what was asked. And then say he couldn't remember clearly, or just change the subject. Such as whenever she or Ron asked about his home life or relatives. Eventually, people gave up asking. Her only chance to get the whole truth was to go for it now, before he had time to come up with the evasions.

She reached into one of her robe's pockets for her wand. A quick murmured spell, and her robes, blouse, and bra were now in a neat pile on a shelf at one side of the broom-closet. Funny, even though it should be cooler without those items, she felt unaccountably warmer. She stuck her wand in her hair like an overly long hair-pain

She heard Harry take a quick breath. His hands felt warm on her skin and she felt her nipples get harder under his palms. That "sort nice" had become a "very nice." She kissed him again, going for an extended period of "tongue-wrestling." After all, she had to get him back on track with his story. Harry was now massaging her chest, running his thumbs over her sensitive skin. She barely suppressed an urge to moan. She was merely re-enacting, pushing for the truth. Was there a hidden heater in here?

Finally, she drew back slightly. "Then what? Is that all you did?"

His breath against her neck was warm.

"Uh, no," he whispered.

"Well?"

His hands were providing quite a distraction, but she managed to stay focused. What had that scrubber done next?

"She, um, she pushed me down a bit, then. . . pushed her. . . breast. . . into my mouth." His voice was barely comprehensible.

Hermione had to think that one through. Oh, right, that bint was taller by a head than Harry. Okay. She could do that. She pushed down on Harry's shoulders. He didn't resist as he lowered his head to her breasts, his hands still occupied. Nothing happened, except she could feel his breath on her chest, sending goose-bumps across her shoulders. "Well?" she said.

A moment later she felt his tongue wrap around her breast, and then he started sucking. She wrapped her arm around his head and held him tight. It was like there was a hot wire running from breast to her groin. She had never felt anything like this ever, not even when she was pleasuring herself. She could feel herself getting wetter. And hotter, if that was possible.

After a short while, he switched to her other breast, switching hands so that both breasts were being teased.

Hermione knew it couldn't have stopped there, so she finally asked, "And then what?" She bent her head down and kissed the top of his head.

The cold air hitting her nipple as he pulled back to answer her came as a shock.

"She, um, she," he paused. He took a breath and cleared his throat. "She said, speak snake to me," he said hoarsely.

"She _what_?" Was the bint nuts?

He sighed, "Like this." He took her in his mouth again, only this time he started to hiss, like the few times she had heard him speak in Parseltongue. She went rigid for a moment, and realized she had had a mild orgasm. Followed a moment later by another. And another. Until she pushed him away. Bloody Hell, that bint was a genius! They were both breathing hard.

"What happened next," Hermione asked once she had her breath back.

There was a long pause. Then, "She, uh, took my hand and put it on her, down there," he whispered.

Again, Hermione had to mull that one over before reaching a couple of conclusions. First, she was going to finish this investigation. Second, if the bint's breasts were bare and she had put Harry's hand down _there_, then the bint had been bare there, too. She sighed, whether from anticipation or not she couldn't say, but a moment later her skirt and knickers joined her blouse and bra on the shelf and her wand was back in her hair. She grabbed his right hand, guiding it to below her waist. She gasped as his fingers slid down, "Like that?" she asked unsteadily, shifting her legs apart slightly.

Neither said anything as he massaged her right breast with one hand while the other massaged something else. Hermione had discovered masturbation when she was eight, but it had never felt as good as what Harry was currently doing. Either Harry was a quick learner or he wasn't nearly as clueless about girls as he seemed. She figured it had to be the first possibility, Harry was a lousy actor.

She managed to gasp out, "Then what happened?"

"She pushed me down to my knees," Harry breathed out in barely a whisper.

"Oh," she said. She put her hands on his shoulders and pressed. "Like this?" Harry sank down her front. She shivered as his breath washed across her breasts, then stomach, and finally her thighs. "And then?"

"Then she, she," he stopped speaking for a moment, "She pulled my head forward and said, . . . well, she said . . . um she said to do this.'" And he leaned forward and demonstrated.

Yes, Hermione decided, Harry's tongue was longer than normal, because he was doing things with it that her mother's romance books, and the medical books she had read about anatomy, said was impossible. Seconds after that, she heard him start hissing in Parseltongue and she thought she was going to lose her mind. By the time he finished she was leaning on his shoulders and her legs were too shaky for her to stand. She slid down until she was sitting on the floor with Harry. It was _really_ hot in this broom-closet!

Maybe she wouldn't kill that bint, Hermione thought, distractedly. She had taught Harry quite well. It shouldn't be _possible_ for his tongue to do what he did.

She leaned her forehead against his again. She sighed softly, "And then what happened?"

"She, uh, she grabbed me." Hermione could hear him swallow again. He went back to using both hands on her breasts, his breath feeling hot on her skin, but cold where he had sucked.

"Where," Hermione whispered back, her mind blank, focusing on what his hands were doing.

"Um, down there," came the whispered answer.

Down there. She mulled that over a moment before she realized he meant down _there_! That. . . that. . . that bint had groped her Harry? How _dare_ she! "You mean like this," she said putting her hand on the front of his trousers. As her mother's romance novels had said, it was rather obvious he was reacting positively to her kissing. She ran her hand down the length of it. It seemed a bit longer than she had been led to believe such things were, but that could have been her inexperience.

He squirmed under her hand, drawing back slightly. "Not, not exactly," he said evasively.

"Then exactly how?"

"Um," he tried to not answer.

She rested her forehead against his head. "Harry, remember, we're re-enacting what happened. So, exactly how?" He took a breath and said, "She banished my clothes to the floor, first."

Hermione took a startled breath. That. . . bint had directly _fondled_ her _best_ _friend_, Harry. Her mind raced. The thought of Harry being naked with that other girl was intolerable, but the thought of a naked Harry sitting so close to her made her pulse race. Well, if she was to get the whole story, she had to go forward. She swallowed, and grabbed her wand again. Moments later his clothes and robe were stacked neatly by her blouse and bra.

And she now held two wands. For a long time, it seemed, neither student moved. She had never felt anything like what she now held. It was both soft and hard at the same time, and very, very warm. His breathing, she noticed, was ragged and loud. Hers wasn't precisely measured and even, either. She tilted his head back and pressed her mouth to his, kissing deeply.

"And then what," she finally remembered to ask.

There was a long silence. "She surprised me by leaning back and pouring something in my mouth. She said, 'Don't worry, little Harry, this won't harm you in the slightest. It just makes sure that your witch has just as much fun as you do!'"

He paused a second. "It felt like hot sauce, it made my tongue feel hot. And then it made my . . . you-know-what . . . feel hot."

Hermione was furious, that bint had forced Harry to drink a potion that did _who_ knew _what_ to him. She was definitely going to kill that witch. Although Harry didn't seem too upset about it. His you-know-what? That was just cute.

Again he was silent for a long time. "Then she said it was my turn, and she . . . pushed me down and . . . sat on me," he whispered.

Hermione's thought about that. It didn't sound so bad. She sat on him, so what? Then she remembered what some of her mother's racier novels had said, and she ran to the logical conclusion of what he had to mean. Her mind went blank.

Heh. It wasn't that bad. And after what Harry had just done, it made perfect sense to her. And this was _her_ Harry, after all. And after what they had . . . re-enacted . . . so far, well, what could you expect? Besides, she had to finish what they had started to find out what that evil bint had done to _her_ Harry.

She had never done anything like this before, but there was no way she was going to let that bint win. Harry was _her_ best friend, he had saved _her_ life, and she was going to prevent that bint from ruining _his_ life.

And while she had always fantasized about her first time being when she got married, she couldn't think of someone better than Harry. Even if they never married _he_ was the one she had a crush on, _he_ was the one who put his life in danger to save hers, _he_ was her _best_ _friend_. If not _him_, then who else? She pushed Harry onto the floor and straddled him.

Much later, she found herself randomly drawing designs on his back as he lay atop her. She liked the feel of him where he was, and when he had tried, once, to sit back, she had locked her heels behind his knees and trapped him in place. She didn't know if it was always like this, but compared to what her mother's _really_ trashy romance novels said — the ones she hid in her underwear drawer, stuffed under the tiny, frilly things that had maybe one square inch of cloth, total — this was way much more fun than they had suggested.

"Why," she asked conversationally, "did she do it?"

Harry sighed and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

Her fingers continued to draw patterns on his back, she just couldn't reach as much. She wasn't sure why she was doing it, it just felt like something she had to do to keep her hands occupied.

"I did ask her. What she said is a bit confusing." He paused a beat. "She said she was getting married as soon as she graduates this spring. It's an arranged thing, they're both pure-bloods. I guess she really doesn't like him, but the contracts have been signed. She wasn't worried about being a virgin, he had already solved that the day after they arrived at school — the contract gave him certain 'privileges' she said." He paused, thinking, "When this whole Heir of Slytherin thing started at Halloween, she was shocked. But then there was that dueling demonstration and the fact that I spoke Parseltongue came out. She said that when she thought about it, the idea of having sex with the Heir of Slytherin, with someone who could speak Parseltongue, well she couldn't pass up the chance. And it's not like her future husband can complain, she won't tell him, and _I_ certainly won't." He paused, the said a bit resentfully, "She said she would always know that she had shagged the Heir of Slytherin and that no matter what her husband might accomplish, he could never top the Heir of Slytherin!"

Hermione considered that. From a certain point of view, it _did_ make sense. The fact that it was her Harry, though, that was being shagged simply because he spoke Parseltongue was _not_ acceptable. The bint had used Harry much the same way some of the man-whores used women — as marks on a list.

However, in the afterglow, Hermione wasn't nearly as bloodthirsty as she had been before. She wouldn't kill the bint, because she _had_ taught Harry some _very_ useful tricks. Not once in their several bouts had Harry 'misfired.' He always waited until _she_ had climaxed before _he_ did — or was that the potion? And his recovery time? What recovery time! Everything she had read said that the male had to have a rest, a recovery period, to 'recharge.' Harry didn't.

And contrary to what the bint had said, Harry wasn't little by any stretch of the imagination! Although she really didn't have any previous experience to compare to, just what she had held in her hands seemed to indicate so. She knew how big her hands were and if skinny scrawny Harry was longer than three hands, then Harry was definitely bigger than average, in both dimensions.

"Did she mention the potion again?"

"I asked her what the potion was and she said, 'I found it in my mother's personal potions book,' and then she laughed. 'Of course,' she said, 'mom doesn't know I copied it. You needn't worry. It's not harmful at all, it just makes things much better between couples.' Then she giggled a bit. 'It's a tiny bit like a lust potion in that it improves your stamina and a few other things.' Then she refused to say more."

She pulled him closer and hugged him. Everything felt just so . . . right!

"Why?" he asked. "Why did you do this?" He paused, thinking about what he had said, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'd have to be crazy to complain! Just, why?"

It was her turn to sigh. She wished there was enough light to see his expression. She thought about how she should answer. She couldn't come right out and say "Because I love you," although she had been thinking that the moment he penetrated her, every time they did it, and each time she drew a pattern on his back since then.

The romance books had clearly explained that the woman should _never_ be the first to say that, it always resulted in scaring off the man. The woman ended up spending the rest of the book trying to get him back!

Women wanted love, men wanted sex. Women wanted a long-term relationship, men wanted sex. The trick was to get the man to understand that a long-term relationship meant lots of sex.

And based on what she had heard the older girls saying, those three words, "I love you," were the kiss of death to any budding relationship with a boy and the cause of many teary nights for the ones that said it.

"You love me?" He sounded incredulous. He was as rigid as a board.

Shite. How had that snuck out?

She closed her eyes, not that she could see very much in the darkness. Damn. She took a shaky breath. "What's not to love? You're kind, you're sweet, you're thoughtful, you're brave, you saved my life . . . ." she let her voice trail off. She was still drawing patterns on his back, repeating a couple she had seen on the cover of a witch's romance novel Lavender had left lying about. She couldn't help but think, 'I love you,' as she did it.

"You love me?" he repeated.

She gave a sad laugh, it was all going to shite, she might as well confess all, and hope they could still be friends. Maybe he wouldn't mind.

"Harry, I've had a crush on you from the first time I saw you on the train. You looked so cute. And you were so humble. You were nice to me when you didn't even know who I was."

"You did?"

He still sounded incredulous.

"I've never had any friends. In primary, nobody seemed to like me. I thought that if I was smart, they would like me, they would want to be my friends. The teachers liked me because I listened and studied. The other kids, though, didn't. Pretty soon I discovered that the ones who said they wanted to be friends only wanted to copy my homework — like Ron does. I kept hoping that would change, but it didn't. I ended up reading books as an escape.

"Then my Hogwarts letter came, and I thought, 'Aha! That's why nobody liked me, they somehow could tell that I was different!' And then you were nice to me on the train. And even at school. You didn't avoid me when I tried to sit with you.

"But everyone else started avoiding me, just like in primary. I kept thinking, if they can see how smart I am, they'll like me, but they didn't. I was pretty miserable. At home, at least, when I left school I'd see my parents and they'd tell me how wonderful I was and I knew they loved me. Here? I'm stuck. In the dorms, the other girls ignored me at best, taunted me at worst. You didn't.

"And then Halloween came. I was crying all day in the girls' toilets. I had just about decided to chuck it all and go home. At least at home I had my parents! But magic is so much fun! I started wishing, really and truly, wishing I was dead — then I wouldn't have to choose.

"Then the troll came in. I guess my magic was trying to help me. I wished I were dead, well here you are, now you can die!

"Then you came in with Ron. Ron just stood there like a lump, gaping, but you, you started throwing stuff. And then you actually _attacked_ the troll! Then Ron knocked the troll out with the _same spell_ I had tried to help him with, the berk.

"My crush had just saved my life! That was when I knew I loved you. And I decided to stick with you. And_ you let me_. I know Ron complained, he has no idea how far his voice projects, but you listened to all my bossiness and stayed my friend.

"Of course, I knew you had no idea what was going on. As far as you were concerned, I was a guy who wore a dress.

"I don't know how much you know about boys and girls, Harry, but girls grow up faster than boys. We start thinking about things between boys and girls long before boys even notice girls are _girls_!

"Harry, do you know what puberty is?"

Silence. "Um, not really." He was clearly only a little curious. Which was really funny considering their position and what they had just been doing.

"Puberty is basically when you start to grow hair in your groin and armpits. Boys start to develop muscles and grow big, while girls start to develop curves and grow breasts.

"Most girls start puberty sometime between ten and eleven, boys are eleven to twelve. Girls have their first period when they're about twelve. You know what periods are right?"

A heavy sigh, then, "No." He shifted his weight. Because he was still connected to her that caused a shift inside her, making it hard to concentrate on what she was saying.

She took a deep breath. "It's when their bodies start releasing eggs to make babies. It's a once a month cycle. The egg is released into the womb, it waits to get fertilized. If nothing happens by the end of the month, the body flushes the egg out and starts over. It's why women bleed once a month. You've heard about tampons and pads, right?"

She felt him nod. He had to have seen those at his home in the bathroom. He might not know what they were, but he had to have seen them, at least.

"I had early puberty, meaning my puberty started when I was nine. So, I've been more aware of boys and what that means than most girls." She paused, then continued sadly, "Yet another thing that separated me from other girls.

"Well, anyway, I knew you wouldn't be interested in girls and dating and stuff for a few years. So I decided to be your friend and to see if maybe, in a few years, you might like me as a girlfriend, not just a friend."

She paused, waiting.

He shifted again, "So, you did _this_ because you _love_ me?" He emphasized this by pushing with his hips.

Her breath caught in her throat, "Uh, yes." She pushed back. The conversation came to a halt for several minutes as they became otherwise occupied.

"Nobody has ever said they loved me," he stated quietly, his breath tickling her ear.

She had resumed drawing on his back. She stopped, staring up at his outline in the dimness of the broom-closet. "Never?"

He shrugged, "I'm sure my parents did when I was a baby, but I don't remember that far back, and nobody has said it since."

She hugged him. "I'll say it. As many times as you want. I love you."

He nuzzled her neck for a few moments. "I don't know what love is. I've never seen it that I can recall." The last came out somewhat bitterly.

They remained together for several more minutes. Hermoine was surprised. She hadn't expected him to say he loved her, but to hear him say he didn't know what love was, was a shock. He could love her and simply not realize that the feeling he felt was love! Or not.

"Do you feel the same way about me that you do about that other girl?"

He thought a few moments. "No. I like you, you're my best friend. I don't even know who she is. What we did was fun, but it was more about her getting what she wanted than anything else."

Hermione smiled, even though he couldn't see her do it. I'll take that at the moment, she thought. "Well," she said, "You don't have to tell me that you love me, just tell me that you need me!"

Harry held her tight for a few minutes, saying nothing. "Hermione, I do need you, you're my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without you."

She remembered a passage from that witch's romance, "Harry, I love you. Where you go, I will go. What you want to do, I want to do. Your friends are my friends, your enemies are my enemies. I will protect you with my life." She continued to draw on his back. "I am yours to do with as you want." She paused, then added, "Does that sound good to you?" She pulled him down close and hugged him tightly.

"Breathe, Hermione," he said weakly, "I need to breathe."

She let go and went back to stroking and drawing on his back, blushing furiously and glad it was too dark for him to see.

"It sounds a bit over the top, actually," he said by her ear, brushing her forehead with his fingers. "But yeah. I don't know if I love you, I don't know what love is, but where you go, I'll go. What you want to do, I'll do. Your friends are mine, and you know your enemies are my enemies! And I've already protected your life once, just as you protected me when Quirrel was jinxing my broom. What makes you think either of us will ever stop?"

Both felt a happy glow at their mutual declarations. Neither noticed it was an actual glow around them.

"Who knows what the future holds, Harry, but best friends for now sounds fine with me." She pushed her hips up at him. "Best friends with a few benefits." She hadn't lost her best friend. She wasn't sure if he wanted her to call him her boyfriend, but that wasn't important just now.

He 'hemmed,' then pushed back. And they did again what they had done before. Hermione knew she'd be walking funny tomorrow.

Hermione knew it had to be that potion. No boy, or man, could go that many climaxes without going flaccid in between at least once. Not that she was going to complain. Harry appeared not only willing to, but able to continue doing this all night. But just to be on the safe side, she decided a visit to Madam Pomfrey was in order.

Except right then her stomach growled. Loudly. Before she could be embarrassed, Harry's stomach responded with a growl of its own. They both burst out laughing.

Hermione cast a quick tempus spell, once she found her wand on the floor where it had been dislodged from her hair during one of their bouts, and discovered that they had missed dinner completely. Two hours gone in a matter of what felt like minutes.

Harry said, "Oh, well, shite." He sighed. "Well, I have a couple of pastries in my trunk. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

"Okay." Time to get dressed, she decided. The shock of the cold air hitting her rather hot nether regions as she pushed Harry, her lover, back made her gasp. Fortunately, there was a torch in the closet, which she lit. Then she cast a quick _scourgify_ to clean herself. She was hot, sweaty, sticky, and there was a bit of blood as she _had_ been a virgin. She did the same to the floor, she didn't want to leave any of the copious amounts of evidence of what they had been doing.

She went to cast the spell on Harry and stopped dead. She had never seen him without a shirt and what she saw sent cold spikes into her belly. He had been watching her, as any young male would have watched a naked girl move. When he saw where she was looking, he quickly turned sideways and pretended nothing was wrong.

"Harry," she said slowly, "look at me."

He gave a sick smile and said, after clearing his throat, "I'm looking."

But he wasn't looking at her, he was staring over her shoulder, avoiding her gaze.

She took two quick step forward, grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her. He resisted for a moment, then stared at the floor.

Crisscrossing his chest and stomach were stripes — scars. Old scars. She pushed his shoulder and turned him around. He tried to resist, but she just pushed harder until he acquiesced. His back was worse, the scars thicker, more frequent, and layered one atop the other, indicating abuse going back many years.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed. Her primary teachers had once given a talk about child abuse and the signs of it. With a distinctly morbid curiosity, she had hit the library on the subject and found several books on the subject, including one with pictures. What she saw on Harry was beyond what she had seen then.

The Dursleys were unfit to be parents and when the police saw these scars both would find themselves in for a _long_ stay in a government facility.

Even more disturbing, though, was that as many times as Harry had been in the Hospital Wing, how had Madam Pomfrey never noticed them? And Madam Pomfrey wasn't incompetent, she couldn't have missed such clear signs of abuse. And if she had, why had Harry been sent back to the Dursleys last summer? It couldn't have been a simple mistake, not with abuse like this.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione gathered him into another hug. He stood stiffly in her embrace before finally relaxing into it. "Harry," she said, muffled slightly by the fact that her face was pressed into his hair, "You're not going back to them. If I have to kidnap you, you're _not_ going back to them!" She kissed the back of his head.

He had no reply, he just shrugged.

"Once I tell my parents, they'll make sure you never go back to the Dursleys."

He stiffened again.

"Harry," she said fiercely, "I love you. Do you think I'm going to stand by and let them treat you like this! And unless you _want_ to go back to them, you're going to have to tell the authorities what the Dursleys did."

He sighed, then she felt him nod.

"But first," she took a step back, "we need to get clean before we go see Madam Pomfrey!"

He turned to face her, "What?" he started to object.

She put her hand on his chest — his bare chest felt warm under her hand — "We have to find out if that potion she gave you did anything damaging, silly!"

"Oh."

She stepped back and cast a _scourgify_ on his chest, and then another lower. She hoped he hadn't noticed the faint traces of her blood. Then she turned him around and checked his back again.

"Oops."

"Oops what?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh, well, it's nothing." Now that there was light to see, and she was looking, she could see that she must have gotten some of her blood on her hands during their first time and picked more up whenever she fondled him. That and she had added a few scratches of her own to his back while they were occupied.

She had left faint blood streaks of what she had drawn on his back. She felt embarrassed that she had gotten her blood all over his back, not to mention the scratches. She cast _scourgify_ several times to make sure she removed all traces of her drawings. She'd have to check her books for a spell to heal minor scratches.

"Nothing?"

"Well, I may have scratched your back a couple of times."

He looked back at her, then grinned. As hot as her face felt, she knew it must be beet red.

A few minutes later they were dressed. As they were about to leave the closet, she remembered that she had a couple of questions, still. She rested her hand on his arm. "Harry, what happened after? With that girl."

Harry stood staring at the door for a moment before sighing, "After we. . . finished, she told me that if I told anyone about what had happened, that there would be consequences. Then she stunned me. When I woke, she was gone. And, well, you know the rest."

"What were the consequences?" She could see him blushing. "Come on, Harry. Best friends, remember?"

He took a breath, "She said if I kept quiet, I might get dragged into a broom-closet several more times."

¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸

**Author's Note:**_ Any interest in this continuing?_


	2. Chapter 2 - ツ The Hospital Wing ツ

**ツ The Hospital Wing ツ**

_If all the young girls were like diamonds and rubies_

_. . . I'd be a jeweler and polish their boobies._

Hermione used fear of the unknown potion as leverage to convince Harry to visit the Hospital Wing, his _consequences_ be damned! The girl could have been lying, hoping that Harry's anticipation of another "broom-closet" episode would give her potion all the time it needed to do something horrible. Reluctantly, more because he didn't want to see Madam Pomfrey again than the promised consequences, he agreed. They did, however, make a brief side-trip to the dorms for the pastries, which were good but did only a little to kill their appetites.

The Hospital Wing doors were open. Curtains sectioned off the beds at the far end of the room. They both knew that Justin Finch-Fletchley was behind one set of curtains while poor Mr. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was behind the other.

"Mr. Potter," said the matron, as she noticed them walking in, "What brings you here this evening? Not _another_ injury?" She frowned disapprovingly.

"Er, no," said the boy, cowed by the woman's attitude.

Hermione spoke up, "Someone forced Harry to drink a potion and we were hoping you could see if it did anything damaging that we can't see."

"Stand there, please, Mr. Potter," the matron ordered, pointing at a spot on the floor.

Harry hurried over to it and waited.

The healer cast a quick spell and studied the results. "Hm. It's been too long since you took the potion, no traces are left in your system. Whatever it did is done. However, nothing appears out of the ordinary. If it did anything it must be too subtle for this type of scan to detect."

She cast a second spell specifically at his head. A small spot by his left ear glowed. "There!" she said with some satisfaction, "Whomever potioned you spilt some while you were lying down." The tiny speck was in a small _stasis_-charmed bottle a moment later. "I'll have this analyzed, it might not have decayed too much." She looked over at Harry, "This might take a week or so for the staff at St. Mungos to get this done, they have other things to analyze that will take priority.

"Now then," she said, "if you could tell me more about how this happened and what happened afterwards, I might be able to figure out what it did."

Harry looked at Hermione and she looked back. If he didn't say something, then she would convince him to do so. He sighed dispiritedly. He hated drawing attention, and this story would certainly do that — if only because it involved The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione understood his reluctance, "Harry was told that if he told anyone there would be consequences," she informed Madam Pomfrey. "Could you promise not to tell anyone if no laws were broken?" Maybe that would provide some damage control.

The healer arched an eyebrow and gave them both a long look. "As long as keeping silent does not break my Healers' Vow, then I will tell no one."

Hermione nodded to Harry and cast a quick silence spell around them.

Madam Pomfrey arched her other eyebrow.

"You would be amazed how far one's voice carries in this room," Hermione stated manner-of-factly, "Even when trying to whisper."

The healer nodded in reply. She used that fact to find out what her patients thought she shouldn't know. She wasn't surprised that Hermione had noticed. She was already developing the reputation as the smartest witch in a generation. She would have to keep a close watch on these two whenever Harry was in her care.

Harry explained about his broom-closet adventure, leaving out their 're-enactment' of course.

At the end, Madam Pomfrey said, "Sounds like a mild lust potion, although," and here she smirked, "it probably really wasn't needed." She frowned, "But, on the off chance she did have something else in mind . . . ." The matron began a long incantation with rather complicated wand movements. She studied the patterns and swirls that resulted.

"Hmm. Nothing _appears_ to have effected your magic." She studied the 'charts' a bit longer. "And there don't appear to be any detrimental changes to your body — no muscle or bone deterioration, no changes in nerves. Brain functions appear okay except for a slight elevation in libido, which could be just from the incident itself.

"The potion was either just a one-time acting event, or whatever it changed is too trivial for my scans to pick up."

She smiled at them. "Everything seems okay, but just on the off-chance something is well hidden, I'd like to keep you here overnight, Mr. Potter, for observation."

Harry sighed dejectedly, the last thing he wanted, Hermione could tell, was to spend another night in the Hospital Wing.

"She's right, you know, Harry," Hermione in the most authoritive voice she could manage. She noticed the flash of annoyance in his expression. She put her hands on her hips. "Harry, it's for your own good, you know that," she scolded. "We don't know if there's some kind of delayed action in that potion, it really is a good idea for you to stay here tonight. Please?" She lowered her head slightly and tried looked up at him. Damn. He was shorter than she was, that trick wouldn't work.

"And it's not as if you're actually _hurt_ this time", she added with a smirk. "Besides, tomorrow is Saturday and you don't have to worry about classes!"

He scowled, but reluctantly nodded. Then his stomach growled.

"Oh, yes, you missed dinner didn't you?" the Healer asked.

At their nods she stepped over to the closest bed, tapped her wand on the nearby bedside table, and said, "Dinner for two." A tray appeared on it less than half a minute later. She ushered the two of them over and ordered them to eat as she moved the table so it was in front of the two children.

Hermione blushed slightly as they sat on the bed and picked at the two plates on the tray. _If one were so inclined_, Hermione thought, _they might consider this to be a date, albeit one with a chaperone._ The only sounds for several minutes were those of two very hungry children scarfing down their food.

"I wish I could stay here with you," Hermione finally said when her plate was empty except for the desert.

"Me, too, Mia."

"Mia?" She looked at him puzzled and surprised.

"You don't mind if I call you Mia, do you? It's shorter and I think it sounds nice, you know — my Mia?" He looked worried and was staring at his plate.

She leaned over and hugged him, kissing him on the neck. "It sounds wonderful!"

Unfortunately, they had no sooner finished their treacle pudding then Madam Pomfrey chased Hermione out, "If you don't leave now you'll end up missing curfew and getting a detention," she said, "And that will mean less time for studying!"

Never let it be said that the Healer didn't know which buttons to push on her patients to get the quickest response! Hermione fairly ran out of the room and down the corridor after kissing Harry goodbye.

ツ

Hermione hurried to the Hospital Wing, walking fast but not so fast as to risk a detention for running. She had gotten up early so she could check on the Polyjuice potion — which was coming along very nicely, thank you very much — and still have plenty of time to meet Harry for breakfast, but then she had thought what if he didn't come in until eight-thirty and she had been there since seven-thirty, wasting all that time? She hadn't wanted to merely wait for him to show up at breakfast, what if he headed for the dorms instead? Or, what if she was waiting for him in the Common Room when he was waiting for her in the Great Hall? Or even worse, what if he slept late and missed breakfast entirely! This way she could eliminate the uncertainty. If she were lucky, they could have a little private time before breakfast.

The doors were already open and he was dressed and sitting on his bed as she walked in. Now all she had to do was pry him away from Madam Pomfrey's tight grip.

He saw her a moment later. She saw his surprise at seeing her, but then he looked away and blushed. That she could tell he was blushing from twenty feet away said something.

"Good morning!" she declared brightly and went to hug him.

"Uh, yeah, good morning," was his muffled guilty response. She was standing between his legs as he sat on the bed, which put his head directly between her breasts. A fact neither of them missed — not that her breasts were all that big, but still, it was the thought that counts, Hermione told herself. And she definitely wanted him thinking about her breasts and not that bint from yesterday.

He hesitantly put his arms around her and hugged her back.

What was he feeling guilty about? She stepped back and grabbed his shoulders, staring intently into his gorgeous green eyes. "What's wrong?"

He looked away and stammered, "N-nothing."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him intently. He was looking everywhere but at her.

"Spill!"

"Um . . . ." he delayed, looking out the doors.

"Harry!" she prompted, dragging out the 'y' in his name.

She quickly turned as she heard a noise behind her. Someone, not Madam Pomfrey, was coming out of Hospital Wing office. It took only a moment for the bushy-haired girl to recognize the seventh-year intern, Miss Hoarney. The older student smiled brightly at Harry. Hermione didn't like the satisfied look the intern was giving to _her_ boyfriend.

"Well, Mr. Potter," the tall blonde said, "You're all _finished_ in here, you can go have _your_ breakfast." She smiled broadly, eyes sparkling, as if at a private joke. "Madam Pomfrey will let you know if there any problems with your . . . sample."

Hermione frowned at the girl then turned to Harry in time to catch him blushing furiously. Oo-kaay, just what was that about? Something definitely suspicious had happened.

She grabbed Harry's hand and with a huff at the smiling intern, dragged the unprotesting, but still blushing, black-haired boy out of the Hospital Wing.

She kept her silence until they were out of sight of the older student and approaching this corridor's broom-closet. "In here," she ordered, flinging the door open and pushing the boy in front of her. This closet wasn't nearly as large as yesterday's; there was barely room for them to stand without touching.

"Okay, mister, _what happened_?

"Um, well, um," he paused.

She didn't need to see his face in the dark closet to know he was blushing again.

"Spill it!" she ordered.

Bowing to the inevitable that was Hermione on a fact-finding expedition, he cleared his throat, "Madam Pomfrey decided she needed a, uh, a, . . . ," he gulped and half-whispered, ". . . a sperm sample."

She arched her eyebrows, well, that _did_ make sense, considering what they were investigating. Then she smirked. Aw, the poor boy had to wank off knowing someone, a female someone, was just waiting for him to finish. Talk about embarrassing! She managed to stifle her laugh. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. She'd never tell anyone, but just remembering would make her smile.

"_And?_"

"_It was embarrassing!_" Harry whinged.

She waited a beat, "Well, if that's all it was, I don't think you need to be all that upset about it." She was ready to dismiss it and get on to breakfast. "After all, you aren't the first boy, nor will you be the last, that she has made that sort of request to." Somehow, she managed to keep her humor at the situation from coming across in her voice.

She could hear the boy fidgeting. "Harry?" she said softly.

He sighed, "But it wasn't her," he said resignedly. "Madam Pomfrey had a niece go into labor early this morning, like at six, and called in Miss Hoarney to watch the ward, and told her to get the . . . it just as she left."

_That_ was different! Harry was not a heavy sleeper, so having the two women bustling around the Hospital Wing probably woke him.

"Oh?" Hermione said in that frosty tone that women use just before they lower the boom on some poor quivering male. Clearly, there was more to this story than mere embarrassment. "_What happened?_"

She could hear him swallow.

"I . . . I . . . couldn't do it," he whispered.

She had to think about that for a moment. She certainly knew he _could_ do it, he had proven that several times yesterday! She smiled, getting lost in remembering for a moment.

She shook herself. _Pay attention to the here-and-now!_ she told herself. She asked softly, "What do you mean, Harry? You know you can tell me, I won't laugh at you, not about something like that."

He took another deep breath, "I just couldn't . . . you know . . . finish, knowing that . . . Miss Hoarney . . . was standing outside the door. Waiting, listening to every little noise I made. It was just . . . I just couldn't. I tried, but . . . ."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, putting her arms around him and hugging him. She kissed his forehead. "But she said you were finished, so what happened?"

Another deep sigh. "After a while, she knocked on the door and asked if I had a problem."

Hermione could feel the heat of his blush against her neck. "What did you tell her?"

A faint whisper, "When I said I couldn't do it knowing she was there waiting, she said that there was only one thing she could do. . . . I thought she meant she'd just leave me alone and go away for a while, but . . . ."

Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach, she remembered that Miss Hoarney was a seventh-year Slytherin. Surely she wouldn't? Surely she wasn't another girl looking to put a notch named Harry Potter, the Heir of Slytherin, on her wand?

There was a long silence.

"Harry?"

Another long silence.

"_Harry? What did she do?"_

More silence, then a faint, "Nothing."

It was Hermione's turn to sigh. He had clammed up. She was going to have to resort to drastic measures if she wanted to discover what had happened. And because Harry was _her_ boyfriend, she was damn well going to find out what that bint did to him!

"Harry," she started softly, "I know you don't want to talk about it, so you'll just have to show me. Like we did yesterday." She felt herself blushing. She could almost feel his gaze on her, even though it was too dark in the closet to see anything except the small sliver of light around the edges of the door.

She pulled out her wand and cast a silencing charm on the door and wall, so no one would hear anything they said. Then she cast a notice-me-not spell on it as well, just in case. As an afterthought, she cast a cushioning charm on the floor of the closet — just in case. Harry listened quietly.

She softly asked, "Okay, Harry, what happened?"

He swallowed, and replied just as softly, "She came into the bathroom. And there we were. I tried to cover myself, but she rolled her eyes and said, 'Oh, come on, there's no need to do that. You aren't the first boy I've seen naked.' Then she . . . closed the door and stepped real close."

"So," said Hermione, "you were, what, standing? Sitting?"

"Uh," came the hesitant answer, "standing?"

"Like we are in this broom-closet, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Except you were exposed, right?"

"Yeah," came the breathless reply.

Hermione started pulling at his robes, searching for the buttons.

"Hermione!" came the slightly panicked response.

"Hush." Remarkably, he did.

After a bit of pulling and pushing, she had his trousers undone. Being the overly large hand-me-downs from his cousin — she was going to insist Professor McGonagall take her boyfriend on a shopping expedition ASAP! — the moment she undid his belt both his trousers and pants hit the floor. Well, actually, not quite the moment — she had to help them over a protuberance just below his waistline.

Despite her experience the previous day, the size of what she now held in her hand took her breath away.

A week ago, she would have vehemently denied being interested in such things. Three days ago, she would have called them crazy if anyone had asked if she was interested in Harry Potter — he _was_ her _best_ friend, that's all. And until yesterday, if someone had said she'd be in a broom-closet undressing Harry Potter she would have hexed them six ways to Sunday — the sheer nerve to say such a thing, indeed! And yet, here they were . . . .

"So . . . you were like this?"

"Uh, yeah."

There was a moment of silence. She was extremely aware that Harry was virtually naked below the waist, even though she could see nothing. He was just as aware of what she held in her hand. It was making it difficult for him to concentrate, she could tell.

"Then what did she do?"

". . . ."

She added, a bit more emphatically, "Harry?"

"She . . . started . . . you know," he paused, clearly hoping he wouldn't have to say more.

"What?"

". . . helping?"

She wasn't called the smartest witch in their year for nothing. "You mean, like this?" She squeezed. She'd felt him yesterday, but there had been quite a few other things going on at that time. This time there were no competing sensations. The contrasting feelings she was getting from her hand were confusing. It felt so hard, yet was so soft and warm. And long, as she discovered, reaching down a bit.

Whatever Harry meant to say came out merely as a squeak.

Must be she guessed right. She would have smirked, but she was too involved in measuring what she held in her hand, or rather hands, now. She cleared her throat, "Um, and did she do this?" The girl slowly started stroking her hands up and down, the top of her fingers lightly pressing her skirt into her groin and the back of her thumbs rubbing against his bare skin. The groan she got as an answer seemed to be a yes.

She knew the medical terminology was 'contact mutual masturbation,' sometimes called 'manual sex,' the slang was hand-job. The books talked about it, but never gave any real details. Her dorm-mates, though . . . .

Some of the older girls gossiped about giving their boyfriends hand-jobs as an alternative to actual sex. They loved to compare techniques. It was amazing how clueless they were about how far their voices would carry down the dormitory corridors — especially when someone was standing just outside the door! She decided to put what she had heard to use.

Based on Harry's inarticulate moans, groans, and gasps, she seemed to doing a good job of transitioning from the theoretical to practicals. It wasn't long before he started pumping his hips to meet her strokes. She pressed against him, using her toes to lift and drop slightly, rubbing her breasts against his chest. And his long dangly bit against her groin. And maybe a little lower. Next time, she decided, they would do this without a bra, blouse, skirt, and shirt between them. The knickers would have to go, too.

Then he said, through gritted teeth, "If you don't stop, I won't be able to . . . stop."

She stopped moving her hands and reached lower with her right hand, pressing her chest even harder against his. Oh, wow, the dangly bit below his long bit was so soft and warm. She cupped it in her hand and rolled it across her palm. Harry suddenly went rigid and she felt the soft bit in her right hand get taut. There was a soft pulse under the fingers of her left hand. Abruptly, the bottom portion of her blouse became very wet, and she felt something warm dripping across her hands. Then another pulse, and another, and another. There seemed to be quite a bit of moisture down there, in point of fact. If her knickers hadn't already been wet, they would have been soaked by now.

She had been unconsciously rubbing her legs together as she rubbed against her boyfriend. The realization of her success, and what that wet stuff was soaking into her skirt and knickers, sent her over the edge as well.

If they hadn't been leaning against each other they probably would have ended up on the floor. It took a couple of minutes for them to regain their breath. She still had both hands on him. One bit was slowly getting softer, the other dangly bit she kept massaging lightly with her right hand.

"Well," Hermione finally said, "Was that what she did?"

Harry was quiet before saying, "Um, no, actually." He was a bit more relaxed now. "She tried that but I was too self-conscious and nothing happened. She finally stopped and said, 'well, that's going to take too long.'"

On the one hand, Hermione was pleased she had managed to do something that that bint in the Hospital Wing had failed. On the other hand, she was angry and wondering just what that scrubber had gone on to do.

"Oh?" The frosty tone was back. Neither of them took notice of the incongruity of her tone and the wet stuff dripping off both of them.

Harry said defensively, "Hey it's not my fault she made me too nervous!"

"Well," growled Hermione, "What did she do next?"

He was silent, then quietly said, "She, uh, crouched . . . ."

"Like this?" interrupted Hermione, dropping to her knees. Her abrupt movement, and the closeness of the closet had an unintended consequence. There was a salty smell and she realized she was holding him and that the long soft wet thing pressing against her cheek was not her hand.

Hermione immediately realized what that, that bint had done! She had started with a hand-job and when that didn't work, she went oral sex — a blow-job. Well, no way was she going to let some random girl get away with doing anything she wouldn't do with her Harry! She opened her mouth and moved that warm and squishy thing into it.

She vaguely heard a gasp from above, but she was more concerned with what was filling her mouth. It had been getting softer, _flaccid_, the medical books called it, but now it was getting longer and bigger. She kept one hand wrapped around it and against her mouth. Then she started slowly bobbing her head back and forth. It rather filled her mouth.

She knew, from her readings, that the average length for a male was five-and-a-half inches. Harry was a bit bigger she knew, and if she tried to fit all that in her mouth, she would gag and choke on it. Not very pleasant or romantic. Her hand wrapped around it kept about half the length outside, while making him feel like it was all the way in. A win-win situation.

It seemed to be taking a long time to get results, not that Harry was complaining, unless you considered repeated cries of "Oh, god! Oh, god!" to be complaints. The only difficult part was breathing, but she quickly established a pattern of breathing through her nose when he pulled back. As fast as he was moving she had two strokes for inhale, then two for exhale. It was actually kind of fun, listening to the sounds he was making and the way he was bumping into the shelves behind him.

Her mouth was starting to get a bit tired when Harry began frantically pumping his hips back and forth. She didn't need to move anymore, she just kept still and let him do the work. She used the grip she had on his dangly bits with her left hand to help control Harry.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite make the connection between his sudden franticness and the end result until he suddenly cried out, "MIA! Oh, God, MIA!" She felt a pulse run across her left-hand's thumb and then she had mouthful of something wet and slimy-slick in addition to what was already filling her mouth almost completely. It didn't taste bad, actually. A bit salty, a slight bitter taste followed a moment later by sweet.

A discussion she had overheard between several fifth-year girls very late one night about the pros and cons of swallowing versus spitting quickly came to mind. Unfortunately, the closeness of the closet and the fact that Harry was leaning forward rather forcefully brought things to head. That and a second pulse crossing her thumb gave her only a second's warning that she was out of time for a decision and out of mouth room for anything else.

She started swallowing. After a few more pulses, she decided to go for broke and started sucking. In for a penny, in for a pound, as her mother always said. Besides, some of those really nasty romances her mother kept hidden always seemed to think that swallowing was a good thing, something to look forward to, even.

Harry jerked back from her after a moment, gasping, "Enough! Enough! Oh, god! There's nothing left!" He slumped on top of her, just breathing hard.

As his breathing finally approached normal, he said, "God, Mia, are you trying to kill me?" She grinned happily, and wiped her hand across her mouth to clean up some of the excess spit and Harry.

It was rather humid in her current position. Both of them had worked up a bit of a sweat since they had entered the broom-closet, and she knew her blouse and knickers were drenched. But she felt as if she had done what she had set out to do. If Harry thought about that 'sample' in the Hospital wing, he'd quickly change to their little tryst in this broom-closet instead. Yes, replace one moment of fun with another that as much, much more fun. Definitely keep him from preferring another.

Hermione smirked as she pulled herself up, using Harry as a support. "Was that what she did?"

She could hear the smile in his voice, "Oh, yes. Only not nearly as well. And she stopped as soon as I started to . . . well, you know, and caught it all in a vial for Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione started straightening her clothes. Mission accomplished! That "not as well" made all the difference to her. _Take _that_ you bint!_ was her only thought as she basked in the glow of success. "Well, then," she said, satisfaction evident in her tone, "I guess we should head on to breakfast. Although I just had a bit of an appetizer . . . ." She giggled.

Harry didn't move or say anything for a moment, then he said, "But there's a bit more . . . ."

Hermione froze, mind blank for a second.

He took a breath, "She said that I owed her now, and that I should return the favor."

"_What?_ That's . . . that's . . . outrageous!" Hermione was just starting to get up a good head of steam when she felt Harry slide down to his knees. A moment later, she felt his hot breath caress her thighs as he lifted her robes and skirt. Surprised, she leaned back as he pulled her knees forward. Before she could ask what he was doing, she felt his tongue slide up her leg. She gasped, then blew out her breath as he pulled her knickers to one side and slid his tongue inside her.

It was a partial reprise of yesterday as he brought her to repeated climaxes. Yes. She knew it for a fact now, his tongue was at least as long as his big dangly bit. Having had them both in the same place, she had a measure of comparison. Although, with what he was doing with his tongue she wasn't that interested in actually doing any measuring. Unless it would keep his tongue where it was for a bit longer.

And when he started hissing she thought she was going to die. She didn't die, of course. She did decide though, that this wouldn't be a bad way to go. What she did do was pass out for a minute after what must have been her tenth climax. When she awoke it was to the pleasant feeling of something long and hard sliding in and out of someplace that was very wet — and everything down there tingled in the most delightful way!

"Uuhh," she said as he lifted her slightly going in. She draped her arms over his shoulders — and quite nice shoulders they were she decided.

He stopped moving, "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I'll mind if you don't get moving again," she half-growled at him. She lifted her left leg and half-wrapped it around his hips to make it easier for them to enjoy the situation and still keep her balance.

Neither of them thought about much for the next few minutes until she once more started on a series of climaxes that stopped only after he combined his with hers.

They had somehow managed to end up sitting on the floor. Well, Harry was on the floor, Hermione was more in his lap than anywhere else. Neither cared about the distinction.

"So," Hermione said, drawing a random pattern on his chest — she had managed to undo his shirt buttons somewhere along the way, "did you give that girl a . . . personal . . . sample, as well?" She was practically purring in satisfaction.

Somehow, in the midst of their . . . activities, her blouse had come undone and as had her bra which was currently riding just below her neck. Harry pretended not to hear her, instead focusing on what his hands were doing to her exposed chest. His breath hot against her neck. She had to concede it was a clever tactic. What he was doing was very distracting. But that meant he was avoiding an answer.

She reluctantly pushed his hands down to her lap and held them there. "Well?"

He leaned forward slightly to rest the side of his face on her chest. He sighed. "Yes. She insisted once I finished . . . doing what she had asked. She had noticed that I had . . . um, recovered?

"She said that she couldn't just leave me like that, she wouldn't be able to live with herself later to remember that she had left the Great Harry Potter," the last three words were spoken sarcastically, "hanging after he had been so nice to her.

"And before I could tell her she didn't have to do anything, she pushed me to the floor and . . . well . . . got on top of me."

Harry tried to sound regretful, but Hermione knew that any boy, or man, at that point was thinking with his little head and not his big head, as her mother's romance books put it. With the result that that bint had had no problems with getting Harry to happily fill her with as big a sample as she wanted.

Probably the only reason the two of them weren't still in the Hospital Wing bathroom when Hermione arrived was that the bint was on duty and knew that she would catch hell from Madam Pomfrey if she wasn't ready to meet and help someone the moment they came in the doors! And in this school, that could be at any moment.

The bushy-haired girl, her hair now rather damp and stringy, huffed in displeasure. Until she could marry him she would have to fight off the ambitious bints who had eyes on her Harry. Well, none of them knew Harry as she did. And she knew just what to do to keep him by her side. She would just have to keep tight reins on her jealousy. She knew that Harry was an innocent about affairs of the heart and relations between the boys and girls. In fact, until yesterday, he had considered girls as boys with bumps and curves. She knew that from overheard comments between him and Ron not understanding the strife between the boys and girls of the upper-years in their dormitory.

She had seen that strife often enough in grade school and last year here, with girls breaking up only to later regret things they had said or done. Or, worse, not understanding that when their boyfriend said he didn't know/understand what they meant, he wasn't being argumentative. He actually really didn't know/understand what he had done to upset his girlfriend. The boys were blindingly oblivious to what the girls thought were clearly visible clues. She had never thought she would ever get involved in such shenanigans, but here she was.

He knew nothing of the cut-throat world of girls battling over boys. She couldn't let his ignorance of those issues make her say or do something that would drive him away. Or make him doubt her affections for him. He took everything a girl said at face value, a deadly mistake in most relationships. She would have to careful shepherd him along, and forgive his errors with other girls. She knew all about how easy it was to get a boy to fall to temptation; her mother's romance books had clearly demonstrated that. The way to keep him by her side was to not ignore any indiscretions he might make, but to show him how _she_ was better than any temptation because _she_ understood him! And she could give him anything that the temptress might try.

And if he did succumb to temptation, to plainly explain why she was upset and what she wanted him to do to make up for it — besides shagging her senseless at every opportunity.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said suspiciously, "Do you think Miss Hoarney was the same girl who attacked you yesterday?"

There was silence, then Harry said, "No, her breasts are smaller than that other girl's were."

Hermione arched her eyebrow, not that Harry could see it, of course, it was still dark in the closet. "And when did you see Miss Hoarney's breasts?"

Harry gulped, "Well, um, she might have taken off her uniform so she wouldn't get any stains on it while we were on the floor."

"I bet you did more than just look at them, too. Right?"

She could feel his face getting hotter against her breasts. He slipped one hand free of hers and dipped his fingers deeper into her lap. She grabbed his hand, heading off another attempt at distraction.

"Maybe," he whispered.

Maybe, hell! He'd not only played with them he'd probably spent a deal of time with his lips wrapped around them!

"But I like yours better," he added.

"Oh?" _Yeah, you'd better back up and fill in the whole you just dug for yourself_, she thought.

He pulled his hands from hers and slowly slid them up from her lap to cup her chest.

"Uh huh. Because yours belong to the smartest witch in Hogwarts."

Oh, he was learning. And she had to control her jealousy. That bint might have a bigger chest than she did, but she had access to Harry anytime she wanted, and she knew he really did value her for her brains and not just because of the size of her chest. She kissed him. No reason to let him think she blamed him for acting just like one expected a boy to act. Might just as well expect a kid to ignore candy left on his plate.

And, she noted, his tongue filled her mouth just as easily as something else just had. She had to pull back and warn him, "Not so far with that tongue, you'll trigger my gag reflex." And then she went right back to snogging him — just to let him know she didn't hold a grudge against him for playing with Miss Hoarney's chest and other feminine parts.

Cleaning up afterwards was a bit of a hassle. First, there was the lack of maneuvering room. Second was the lack of adequate light. Sure, one used a _lumos_ spell while the other tried to straighten their clothes, but it was kind of like trying to dress by flashlight — the light never seemed to be where you wanted it and the shadows always hid what needed fixing.

They removed the spells on the door and Harry cautiously peeked out. First one way, then opening the door farther to look the other. No one was in sight so they quickly scurried out of the closet and down the hall. At the nearest unused classroom they ducked inside and carefully checked each other over to make sure there were no tell-tale signs of their recent activity, except for flushed faces and silly grins whenever they looked at each other. And Hermione tended to walk with a bit of a limp — it was rather tender in a certain unmentionable area — not that she minded in the least.

And Harry, Hermione noticed, seemed much more relaxed and laid back than he had been in many months.

They managed to make it to breakfast just before the cut-off time. Hermione was disappointed to see that Professor McGonagall had already left. Well, if she wasn't here for lunch, she would be for dinner, and then Hermione could have a few words with her about taking Harry clothes shopping.

They loaded up their plates and dug in. Ron stared at the two, clearly perplexed. He could tell something was different, but he hadn't a clue what it was. He shrugged, obviously deciding to it aside, and instead launched into something that was much more important — Dragomir Gorgovitch, the Chudley Cannons chaser, had been injured in yesterday's game and was going to be out for the next three games!

Farther down the table, Ginny Weasley scowled at the two obviously happy Gryffindors. The fact they had entered the Great Hall holding hands had not escaped her. From her expression alone, you could tell she was going to do something about that meddling muggle-born!

When the platters started disappearing, they quickly lifted their plates and cups up so they wouldn't vanish as well, and headed out into the Entry Hall to finish eating. Then they adjourned to the library for research on just what that monster was that was terrorizing the school. Ron reluctantly followed them after failing to convince Harry to play chess — after Hermione whispered to Harry that she would reward him later for his efforts.

¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸


	3. Chapter 3 - The Dressing Room

**◑‿◑ The Dressing Room ◐‿◐**

_If all the young lassies were clothing or shoes made of leather_

_. . . I'd keep them waxed and used in all weather._

.

Hermione was in the library — as usual. She was reading next year's Charms textbook —what a surprise!

Two things were different this time. First, she wasn't researching monsters to find the culprit petrifying students. Instead she was taking a break and doing a little relaxation reading — she had already seen to the Polyjuice early this morning. She'd check it again tonight before curfew.

Second, she sat beside the Library window facing the road to Hogsmeade and kept glancing out the window as she finished each page. She had been here all day, with only a break for lunch, and dinnertime was only a couple of hours away.

Ordinarily she would take a seat much deeper in the library because older-year students usually commandeered all the window seats. Today, though, the Library was quiet and almost deserted. The Third-year-and-above students were all in Hogsmeade while the First and Second year students were skiving off homework and study in favor of games and preparing to go home for Christmas — three days away.

It was the last Hogsmeade day for students this year. And it was Professor McGonagall's turn to ride herd on, er, chaperone, the students and keep them out of trouble. Even though the Prefects' were with them, there still needed to be an adult's supervision — sometimes it was the _Prefects_ who needed minding! That, and to make sure none of the students tried to sneak away on the Knight Bus when they were _supposed_ to stay in Hogsmeade.

Most of the students at Hogsmeade wanted to get in some last minute Christmas/Winter Solstice shopping. A large number of them just wanted out of the castle for a second day. That the weather was nice — for Scotland in winter that meant it wasn't actively sleeting, hailing, blizzarding, storming, or any other nastiness — was a plus. The sun was out and although it wasn't that warm, it was better than the alternative.

It had taken a rather heated discussion, on Hermione's part at least, later Saturday afternoon about how he had no decent clothes — that is, not torn, ragged, or simply far too large for his size — except for his school robes! His relatives had only given him his large cousin's cast-offs, including underwear and trainers! The worst of it was that the boy had plenty of spending money and just didn't know how to shop. He had even admitted to never being _in_ a clothing store.

Professor McGonagall had been just as offended as Hermione at the state of the boy's wardrobe, once she was convinced to look. Fortunately, it was Hogsmeade weekend for the students, so the professor had decided to take Harry along with her to get new clothes the next day.

As long as Harry stayed right with the professor, though, no one would object to the Second-year's presence in Hogsmeade among the older students. They left just after breakfast with the rest of the students.

Hermione, knew, she just _knew_, that something untoward had happened. It had started as a suspicion in the morning, but by noon, she was convinced. After all, she wasn't with Harry to keep the harpies away. She had had the feeling that he was going to be waylaid by another rabid fan-girl. They had been probably lying in wait for a single moment of inattention from Professor McGonagall. And, the feeling in her gut was that it had already happened. She just hoped Harry was okay.

Students had been straggling back to the castle all afternoon, sometimes in pairs or small groups, sometimes loners. She expected to see Harry making his way back to Hogwarts along that road at any minute, and she was checking the road looking for him.

Of course, it was possible that the professor would make Harry stay with her until she came back, in which case Hermione wouldn't see them until dinnertime. However, she didn't want to take the chance that the Professor would send him on back alone, so here she was. It didn't matter, though, she would have been in the library anyway getting her reading done.

The moment she saw him, she'd be off like a shot to meet him at the Entry Hall. She wanted a full report on what had happened to him in the little magical village. If she had to, she'd drag him into another broom closet and make him show her what had happened. She dreaded finding out that her fears about what might have happened to him would be true.

Although, and she again squirmed in her chair at the thought, dragging him into a broom closet for a debriefing didn't sound like a bad idea at all, even if she was wrong and nothing had happened except some clothes buying. She'd still snog him senseless. She was almost looking forward to it even if she was a bit too sore to want to do more than that.

Remembering her experiences in Hogwarts' broom closets in the last two days made her face hot, and other places as well. She wondered what he would have to show her. Was she dreading discovering she was right, or was she hoping she was right? It was so confusing for the thirteen-year-old girl.

She sighed, she'd been staring at page 337 for at least five minutes without reading a single word. She looked out the window, for the umpteen-hundredth time today. Then returned her attention to page 337, again. _This_ time she would read it!

She had just finished the first paragraph when it suddenly hit her. Someone familiar had been walking back along the road! She lunged at the window for a better look.

Yep, there was a single person walking up the road and almost to the castle. He was a bit unsteady, too. He had several shopping bags in his hands. It was only the fact that he kept stopping periodically to put down the bags that he was still visible through this window. Even though his clothes were different from this morning Hermione could tell that it was Harry, there was no mistaking that adorable unkept hair of his. Nor his small size — he was still the shortest student in Hogwarts, despite being a second-year.

She slammed the book closed, put away her other reading materials, and checked the table for anything she might be forgetting. Then she hustled over to the re-shelving bin and deposited the books she had on hand. She left the Library as fast as she could towards the Entry Hall. She should get there just as Harry did.

Her timing was perfect, he was coming through the doors just as she arrived at the Entry Hall. She shivered slightly in the cold breeze that came in the doors. She was wearing a jumper with her skirt today, She had left off her robes because it was a weekend and she wasn't planning to go outside.

She hurried across the Hall and grabbed him in a big hug, knocking his bags to the floor. He didn't seem too put out at the loss, although he was a bit stiff in her arms.

She stepped back, "What'd you get?"

"Everything," came the tired response.

". . . ?"

He sighed. "Shirts, trousers, boxers, socks, dressing gown, jim-jams . . . everything."

"Oh. Well, then, you'll just have to show me won't you?" Hermione picked up one of the bags, grabbed his hand, and tugged. Taking the hint, he bent down and gathered the other bags as best he could. As soon as he straightened, she hauled him off down the corridor towards the stairs to Gryffindor. She could hear a couple of the students in the Hall and corridor laughing at them.

When they reached the fourth floor, she saw no other students. Smiling, she changed directions and found an empty, unused classroom down the right-side corridor. She pulled him inside, then cast a quick cleaning charm and closed the door.

"Okay, let's see," she said peering into the bag she had in hand.

"Wait, I thought we were going to the dorms?"

"Right. And let everyone know you had no decent clothes? You think the twins wouldn't come up with some weird prank? Besides, if we went into your dorm room do you think the others would give you any peace at all if we told them you were showing me your new clothes? Everyone would crowd in just to peek aand make fun of you."

Harry made a face of distaste at that thought. No, they would pick on him mercilessly about being a professional model. Or pussy-whipped. He wasn't precisely sure what that meant, but it sounded bad.

By now, she had emptied the first bag, primarily socks and pants. Oddly enough, she noticed, the packages were all open and the clothes just stuffed inside. She frowned. She could see trying on one pair of socks or boxers to make sure the size fit, but all of them?

She grabbed one of the other bags. It was stuffed with trousers, again all rumpled instead of neatly folded. She looked in the next bag — rumpled shirts. The same for the next bag with the jim-jams and the next with the dressing gown — no, there were two in there. The last bag had trainers and Wellingtons.

She looked up at Harry, frowning. Harry was suspiciously quiet, and looked everywhere but at her or the clothes bags.

"Harry?"

He blushed.

She put her hands on her hips. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I just . . . shopped."

She grabbed the shirts bag and pulled several out. They were good quality and the designs, off white on white, were tasteful. The two non-white shirts were a gorgeous emerald green and a staid dark blue, both with designs on them in slightly darker colours. No boy would ever have picked these out. "Try again."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Yep, something had happened. She pulled out her wand and started casting. A moment later the room was silenced, the door locked, and a_ Notice-Me-Not_ subtly in place. If someone cast a_ Homenum Revelio_, they would be found out, but someone had to suspect they were in the room, first. She returned to glaring at him.

He sighed again, giving into the overwhelming force that was Hermione in research mode. "Professor McGonagall took me to every store in Hogsmeade, one right after the other. We spent only a few minutes at each one. She would walk up to the register and tell the person there that she was the chaperone today, and to send a student for her if they needed her. Then she asked them if there were any problems from yesterday. A few did mention issues. She took names and told them she'd be back later.

"That took the better part of two hours — there are a _lot_ of small stores in that place!

"Then she took me back to a clothing shop called Gladrags Wizardwear. She told the owner, at least I think it was the owner, that I had had a trunk accident and needed new clothes, everything except robes.

"She had no sooner handed the list to the woman with the warning to not get carried away when there was a bang outside. I think I saw the Weasley twins run by the front of the store. McGonagall left to take care of that and I didn't see her again until this afternoon.

"The woman took me over to a counter with boxers and said, 'Pick what you like.' She had no sooner said that than about ten witches came in. She shoved Professor McGonagall's list into my hand and took off to help them."

Harry made another face as if he had tasted something bad, "She said, 'I'll check on you in a while.'" He stopped and stood there blinking.

"Well?" It didn't seem too bad so far, about what she would expect. Although, leaving Harry to buy his own clothes when he had never shopped before was a disaster waiting to happen, she figured.

"So, I grabbed a handful of packages and started looking for socks. When I found the socks, I discovered I needed a basket for everything. Just as I was dumping what I had into a basket by the front counter, someone behind me said, 'Oh, for Merlin's sake, you're not really going to buy that . . . that rubbish, are you?'

"When I turned I saw two Slytherin girls watching me, so I said, 'Yes.'

"One girl was a tall brunette, the other was just a bit shorter, but had strawberry-blonde hair." Hermione remembered him telling her about how his Aunt 'Tunia had gone through several hair-colour changes over the years, ranging from bleach-blonde to coal black with a variety of shades in between. He hadn't understand why she did it, but she did.

"Before I could say anything else, the brunette said, 'Well, well, well, Mr. Harry Potter, I presume.' And then she folded her arms under her chest. She looked at me like I was some sort of bug. You know, the same kind of look that Malfoy tries to use that makes him look constipated instead? Only she could pull it off."

Hermione noted that Harry did not mention boob size at all, but the fact that he specified she put her arms under her chest meant the girl had large boobs. And he had definitely noticed them!

"Meanwhile her friend snatched the professor's list from my hand. I tried to grab it back but she waved it out of my reach and stepped back to read it.

"The brunette said, 'What brings you here, Mr. Potter? Picking up cheap, tasteless gifts for your so-called friends?'

"'Trunk accident, I'd guess from this list, it has seven of everything.' Her friend interrupted. They decided that it must have been something the George and Fred did. I thought that an excellent excuse and didn't say anything different." The boy was, Hermione could tell, embarrassed at the state of his clothing, even if he never said anything to anyone about it.

"I tried getting the list back again." Harry sighed, "It didn't work. But now they were both looking at me weirdly."

Hermione asked, "Weirdly?"

"Yeah, kinda like I was the prize in a competition."

Hermione frowned heavily.

"The first girl said, 'So, you're really here just to get new clothes?' She sounded surprised. Her tone changed, too. It wasn't nearly as sarcastic. She sounded . . . I don't know, interested?" Harry had a puzzled look on his face.

"'Yeah,' I said. 'Now give me my list back!'"

"'What's your budget?' the strawberry-blonde girl asked instead of giving me my list.

"I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere until I answered their questions. I figured they were going to hound me the rest of the day, picking apart my choices and trying to make me miserable. Maybe I could get rid of them by co-operating, or at least prevent this from taking all day. So I pulled out my money bag and looked inside. 'About a hundred galleons,' I told them."

Hermione shook her head — the boy simply had no concept of money. A hundred galleons was over two weeks' pay for the average wizard. And telling two witches he had that much to spend on clothes? Already she could tell this wasn't going to end well for his finances.

"They looked at me, surprised, then looked at each other, then looked at me, and then back at each other. It was actually comical, not quite a double-take, but close.

"Then they grabbed each other's hands and squealed — they actually squealed — and said 'Makeover!' together." He shook his head. "Then it got _really_ weird. They started talking like the twins, you know, alternating?

"'We can't let him pick things out,'

"'He clearly has no fashion sense,'

"'Wouldn't know quality,'

"'. . . if it hit him in the face,'

"'Completely rubbish at shopping!' they concluded.

"'But he has a more than decent,'

"'. . . budget to get a complete wardrobe.'"

Watching Harry imitate the two girls was funny. He faced his left and said one line, then turned to face right for the next, and so on. All in a high falsetto voice.

"And when they looked at me, their eyes, their eyes actually _sparkled_!" Harry shuddered.

"Then they grabbed my hands and dragged me over to where there were a bunch of doors labeled 'Dressing Rooms.' The doors had a gap of about a foot at the top and bottom. I got a bad feeling about that."

Harry stopped again, blushing furiously.

Hermione could read the signs, whatever happened next she was going to have to drag out of him. "Come on, Harry, tell me what happened next," she coaxed, "You promised," she wheedled, "to not keep any secrets from me." After a brief pause, "_Please_?"

He cleared his throat, "Well, at first they just stood there staring at me. Then the girl with the list said, 'He has potential, but you can't really tell in those robes, so the first order of business is lose the robes.' The other girl said, 'Right. As my daddy says when he designs a flower garden for a client, _Strip it down to the dirt_. Or in this case, skin.' Then they _giggled_! They ordered me to take off my robes. Well, I didn't want to, but they were insistent, saying that they couldn't help me while I was still wearing the robes. I didn't want to take them off, because, you know, all I had were my cousin's over-large cast-offs and I didn't want them to see.

"They wouldn't take no for an answer, but they did promise that they wouldn't steer me wrong, they had their reputations as fashion-hounds to protect.

"So, reluctantly, I took off my outer robes and stood there in my trousers and shirt.

"'Oh, Merlin, those are rubbish!' they said together. 'We can't do anything with you dressed like that!' Then they pushed me into one of the dressing rooms and ordered me to strip.

"Well, at first I refused, but then one of them tossed a pair of boxers over the door. They said either I stripped or they weren't letting me out of the dressing room. They said that when you renovated a house you always stripped it bare before you started putting in anything new, and that this was the same. We argued for ten minutes, until I just gave up. They made me give them my old clothes. I slid them under the door.

"No sooner did I do that than the brunette flung open the door and stared at me. It was kind of embarrassing, but at least I had on the boxers, I thought they were okay. It was kinda odd, though. She was looking at me, but she wasn't _looking_ at me? It wasn't leering or offensive, just creepy. It was like she saw me, but not as a person, but as a . . . a . . . dress up doll? She frowned at me and said, 'Nope, too big, those won't do at all.'

"Then she handed me a second pair and said, 'Put these on.' For a moment I thought she wasn't going to close the door, but she did. I changed boxers, and told her I was done.

"She opened the door again, but before she could say anything, her friend pushed her aside. 'My turn,' she said. Then they got into an argument over who was in charge. Then they both stepped inside the little room."

He shook his head. "Meanwhile I'm standing there in just my boxers and anyone can look in. So I said that."

Hermione's eyes were stretched wide open. Those two bints had stripped Harry almost naked just so they could see him like that! They could easily have dealt with talking over the door and handing him things and then taking a look.

"That started another argument, and they decided that they couldn't properly give me a makeover when anybody could butt in. And if word got out that they were giving Harry Potter a makeover, half the girl's at Hogwarts would be there in minutes. Plus, there wasn't enough room in there for them to get a good look — it was rather crowded with the three of us. Not to mention that there was no way I was going to change clothes in front of two girls I didn't know!"

Hermione _knew_ she should have tried harder to talk Professor McGonagall into letting her go with them. She did notice he said, "two girls he didn't know." Did that mean he would if he did know them? That had possibilities — why did the room seem hotter than before?

"So they dragged me to the back of the store where there was an open space. Then the strawberry-blonde started waving her wand around. After a moment, she said, 'Done. Nobody'll notice us.' That was when I noticed that they had somehow gotten hold of my wand."

"Harry!" Hermione was horrified. They had him helpless, and now hidden from view. They could have done anything!

"Yeah," the boy shook his head ruefully, "but they _had_ promised not to hurt me. And they _did_ seem more interested in clothes than hurting me. I mean, they weren't insulting or being prats.

"The blonde held up my wand by the tip and said, 'We don't want you disappearing on us with a _Notice-Me-Not_, now do we? Beside, you can't exactly try clothes on while holding a wand, now can you? I promise you'll get it back when we finish. And if you don't like what we've done you can hex us! The brunette, turned to her and sharply said, 'Leda!' Apparently that's her name."

"Then they just stared at me. The brunette said, 'Right size, wrong color. Those just don't bring out the green in his eyes.' The other girl agreed and ran off. It was right awkward, I tell you, standing there in my boxers while this girl stared at me like I was a puzzle. The blonde, Leda, came back with several boxers. She tossed one to me and said, 'Here, put these on.'

"Naturally, I refused. "I can't do that out here! You're watching me!' I said.

"They both just looked at me. The brunette smirked, just like Malfoy — I swear, is there a class they give to Slytherins in smirking?'" He rolled his eyes.

"The blonde said, 'Just leave then.'

"Like I was gonna walk out of there in just a pair of boxers! Professor McGonagall would hit the roof!"

"And then the blonde said, 'By the way, the store charms all their clothes to return to the display rack if you haven't purchased them when you get outside. Prevents shoplifting that way.' And they were both grinning like Chesire cats. I think they just wanted to see me naked so they could make fun of me with their friends back in the snake pit."

He gave an exasperated look to Hermione. "What was I supposed to do? They had my wand, too."

Hermione looked back, aghast. How dare they! She pulled over the bag with the socks and boxers and dumped them out on a nearby desk. She pointed, "Which ones?"

It took Harry a moment to get what she wanted, then he pointed to a satiny emerald green set that did match his eyes perfectly. She tossed them to him. "Show me," she said.

He gaped at her.

"Come on Harry, you promised to show me what the girls made you do, remember? Besides, it's not like I haven't seen you before." Actually, she hadn't. Those broom-closets had been _dark_. And the wand _lumos_ wasn't very bright, certainly not like the light in this classroom. With any luck he wouldn't remember that. Besides, she wanted to see if they really did match his eyes.

It took a bit more coaxing, but finally he was down to his boxers. The ones he was wearing were a burnt-amber colour and offset his eyes brilliantly. The temperature in the room seemed a bit higher than before. She used a hand to fan herself for a moment. It appeared the girls really were helping him choose appropriate and tasteful clothes.

"Oh, those are wonderful," she said. "They really do show off your eyes." Not that anybody but her would ever see him in them, but she didn't say that aloud. It was eye-candy just for her. Those two bints would forever look back on this day and wish they were in Gryffindor!

Harry blushed. She didn't miss that there was a sizeable long lump outlined in the boxers.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he stammered as he tried to hide what she was looking at when he realized just where she was staring.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Harry," she said briskly. She smirked a bit herself as she said, "It's rather a compliment that you get that way when I'm here." Then she added, "And I hope that never changes."

The boy was blushing bright red, fair enough to match the hair of the famous Weasley clan.

"Come on," she cajoled, "Put these on." And she held out, again, the green boxers.

Bashfully, he took the boxers and then turned his back to her as her took off the one pair and put on the other. She didn't plan on telling him that doing it that way was way sexier than simply doffing the old pair for the new. It also gave her more than a few moments to appreciate his tight bum. Although, now that she could clearly see him, it wasn't nearly as rounded out as it should be. In fact, she had never heard of a concave bum before. But it was still a nice bum. Almost as nice as his shoulders. She didn't think he noticed her casting that cooling charms on herself. It did seem to be getting awfully warm in here.

When he turned back, the lump in front was just as pronounced and she could just imagine what it looked like without the satin boxers covering it. She said, "Ooh, nice, they do match your eyes," to cover for what she was really thinking.

Harry just stood there fidgeting.

The bushy-haired girl frowned. He seemed a bit more embarrassed than he should. "What did they do next?"

"Nothing."

Aha! They _had_ done something.

She stepped closer, "_Harry_."

He mumbled something she didn't catch.

"What?"

He took a breath. "The-brunette-said-she-had-to-check-the-fit-and-make-sure-they-weren't-too-tight," he said all together and quickly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and stepped closer. She didn't want to spook him and make him clam up, so she pretended not to understand. Softly, trying to appear puzzled, she said, "What do you mean?" as she held out her hand.

Gulping and looking at her hand only long enough to grab and then looking everywhere but at her, Harry put her hand on the lump in his boxers.

And a nice, warm, long lump it was, Hermione decided. She stroked it a few times. The satin added a sensual sensation that made the room seem hotter — she would need to cast another cooling charm, soon. She found her hand drifting lower. Oh, yes, these boxers did not constrict the dangling bits at all, she discovered. It felt nice to cup them through the satin.

Harry was having a bit of difficulty breathing, he was gulping and "aahhing." She could feel his breath washing across her neck.

She cleared her throat. "I suppose," she tried to sound stern but it came out more breathless, "That the other girl had to check as well?" Harry nodded jerkily. Hermione switched hands. Harry said, "Uhhh," and then went up and down on his toes slightly.

It felt wonderful no matter which hand she used, even both. There was just something that was indescribably sexy about running her hands over satin stretched across something so intimate and warm.

"Then what?" she breathed out.

"Socks!" he blurted out. "They had me try on the socks." But he was blushing and fidgeting far too much for something so simple.

"Really?"

He sighed. Softly, reluctantly, looking away from her, he said, "No."

He sighed again. "The blonde, Leda, looked at her friend and said, 'I need a better look,' and before I could stop her she pulled down the boxers. I tried to cover myself, but she grabbed my hand while her friend grabbed the other. 'Stop it,' she told me while crouching. 'We have to see what we're going to work with, here.'

"They just stared at me a moment, then looked at each other. The brunette said, 'Well, this just won't do. That snake is just too big to ignore,' and they smirked at each other. Leda licked her lips and said, 'him being like this will ruin the lines of anything we put on him.' 'We can't have that' said the other. 'Right — drain the snake's venom' they said together, giggling. Then they, um," That Harry managed to blush while still so red in the face was a surprise. "Uh, they grabbed me."

"Together?" Those bints! They were taking advantage of Harry's lack of shopping experience to get him to strip, and then they were fondling his naked bits in public! Even if they were under a _Notice-Me-Not_ spell, it was still in public in a store full of customers. She wished she could have been there to see them, er stop them fondling her naked Harry in public. It felt as if the room was getting hotter as she thought about handling Harry's naughty bits with him naked and in public. She needed to apply that cooling charm, but her hands were full and it would be rather obvious for her to let go just to grab her wand.

He stopped talking. They just stood there for a few moments with Hermione keeping a light grip on Harry. She realized he wasn't going to continue without some "encouragement" from her. She slipped her hand inside his boxers and gently started stroking. "Ah," he breathed out.

"Come on, Harry, what happened next?"

He cleared his throat, twice, and then a bit hoarsely continued his story, "The brunette started playing with my, um, you know, my um. . . ." his voice trailed off. She squeezed what she held, "This?"

"Huh. . . . um, no. . . lower," and his voice dropped lower to match.

"Oh." Taking the hint, Hermione eased his boxers down and used both hands, each playing with something different. Harry shifted slightly, moving his legs farther apart and giving her more room to explore.

Hermione smiled to herself, Harry seemed to like her ministrations on his behalf. "And then?" she prompted.

He cleared his throat, "Leda started doing what that other girl did yesterday, you know, in the Hospital Wing, she started, um. . . ."

Oh, yes, she remembered what that bint yesterday had done with Harry. No way was she going to place second to another girl in anything regarding her Harry. She had done it better than that bint of an intern and she was going to do it better than the scrubber from today! Hermione leaned forward started lightly licking, "Like this?" She asked. She decided his moan was a yes. She applied herself with a will. When she finished, by God, he'd never remember anyone but her! After a minute, she stopped and looked up at his face, he really did make funny sounds when she did this, 'What happened when you finished?' She continued stroking with her hand.

"Um, uh, I didn't," he gasped. "I couldn't, the other girl was watching and we were in plain sight of a dozen other people."

She stopped completely, surprised. "Really? What happened next, then?"

"The blonde said, 'This is taking too long,' and pulled me until I was lying down."

Yeah, like he was going to say no to girl with a good grip on his naughty bits! Hermione copied the other girl, "So, you ended up like this?" He was on the floor beside her. He was blushing again.

"Uh, yeah."

She studied him for a moment, then reached back and retrieved her wand. Then she cast a cushioning spell on the floor. No reason to make it uncomfortable for herself and Harry. She bet those two bints didn't think of that!

"Then what?"

He turned redder, and his voice dropped low, "She . . . lifted her robes up."

". . . ?"

"She wasn't wearing any knickers," he whispered. He cleared his throat, "Um, it seems . . . Pureblood girls don't wear underwear or anything under their robes."

Hermione didn't think that was right, Lavender Brown and Fay Dunbar were both Purebloods and they wore underwear! Maybe it was just a Slytherin thing. But still!

She noticed, though, that Harry seemed to swell slightly under her grip as he said that. Did he find that . . . exciting to think that a girl he was walking with in the corridors of Hogwarts wasn't wearing anything else under her robes? She didn't think she would find that exciting, but right now what she was doing with Harry had certainly soaked _her_ knickers.

"And?"

His breath was a bit ragged, "She, un, sat on me."

That bint had actually mounted Harry? That was inexcusable! Hermione let go of Harry, lifted her skirt, and quickly divested herself of her knickers as Harry watched her wide-eyed. Then, she threw her leg over his waist and perched on his thighs. She grabbed him again with her right hand while holding her skirt up with the other. She held him at the right angle as she lifted herself up on her knees and guided him into place. Just before she settled herself down on him, she looked up at his face, "Like this?" She felt herself blush as she realized he was staring at where his naughty bit was meeting her naughty bit. She didn't have much hair there, yet, so she felt rather exposed to his gaze. But this was her Harry, so it was okay.

"Uh, no," he said without looking up. They were both blushing like mad now.

She stared at him, then slid forward to sit on his stomach letting her skirt drop down. It felt decidedly naughty to have her bits pressed tight against his warm stomach and she barely controlled the urge to wiggle back and forth. She wondered what it felt like to him. From the way he closed his eyes and took an unsteady breath, perhaps it felt as interesting to him as it did to her.

"What?" she asked. Now she was curious. "If you can't bring yourself to say anything, then show me!"

He hesitated, but finally he grabbed her knees and pulled her forward. It took her about one second to understand what he was doing. She quickly moved up to straddle his face. It was weird to have to hold her skirt up to see his face. He motioned against her legs with his hands and again it took her only a moment to understand. She turned around. Now she couldn't see his face at all, but she had a clear view of his long naughty bit.

He gave her knees a slight push apart and a second later she felt his tongue hit a very sensitive spot. "OH!" she said. Then he pressed lightly against her back and she carefully lowered herself across his torso. She didn't need prompting to understand what came next, she just started licking. And a bit more.

It was difficult, actually, to concentrate on what she was doing when Harry was doing what he was doing to her. And what he was doing was wonderful.

Fortunately, he was also moving his hips so she just stopped trying to do anything more than not scrap him with her teeth — let him do all the work while she enjoyed the ride.

And what a ride it was. She had climaxed several times when she felt him push hard with his hips and drive deeper, then he climaxed. She had worried about her gag reflex kicking in doing this, but the distraction he provided seemed to take care of that worry as she swallowed again and again.

She _liked_ this new way of doing things, it wasn't nearly as one-sided as the other ways of helping each other orally. It wasn't as good as a regular old-fashioned shagging, but it would certainly do for variety! It also wasn't as messy in her knickers for the rest of the day. Cleanup would be a cinch! Although she could see the appeal of not wearing knickers after doing something like this — they got all sticky and stiff and uncomfortable.

She rolled off her lover and turned around. They looked at each other a moment. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. Oh, yes, she loved her Harry. Those bints, as awful as they were, were certainly teaching him some interesting tricks. At least these two hadn't told him to hiss at them!

Still, if she ever had the chance she'd make sure to hex them. A nice set of boils in a particular delicate place would be a sufficient revenge, even if the boils only lasted a day. They would certainly last longer than any pleasure the girls may have gotten from her Harry.

The only thing was, she didn't know for sure whom they were and she couldn't just hex all the upper-year girls in Slytherin! Or could she? That would require a bit of thought. She now had four girls to hex, two she could track down — Leda and the intern — the other two would be more difficult.

Back to Harry, who, she had discovered, really wasn't that hairy at all.

After they recovered their breath, she asked, "And then what happened?" She idly drew a rune on his chest that she had seen on the cover of a trashy witch's novel Lavender had accidentally left out.

Harry didn't answer at first, but finally he said, "Leda sat up and I missed what they said to each other because her legs were pressed against my ears, but the brunette seemed unhappy from her tone. Then Leda got off me and helped me up. Then they started handing me boxers to try on, but one of them cast a _scourgify_ first, 'Can't have you messing up the merchandise, now can we?' said Leda. I hadn't noticed before, but they also did that to the things they brought me before they gave them to me."

How about that? Apparently while wizards were clueless, at least the witches understood basic sanitation.

He huffed, "But they had to 'check the fit' on each one. Very carefully, very thoroughly, it seemed. I think they were having fun playing with my, um bits." The bushy-haired girl could see him blushing lightly. It was cute that he could do that after what he had been through with her the last three days.

"After the sixth pair of boxers, Leda said, 'Oh, dear, would you look at that. His snake is causing a fitting problem.' And before I knew it, I was back on the floor and this time it was the brunette who was hiking up her robes and straddling my face." Harry squinched his eyes shut for a moment. "At least their robes covered my head so I could pretend we weren't in the middle of the floor in a store."

Hermione could see that point. She twisted sideways and put her head on his stomach and started playing again. It didn't take much effort for her to get a rise out of Harry and soon they were replaying his experience with the other girl. This time, though, after she had hit her high a couple of times, Hermione stopped and moved around so that she was straddling his waist. "Here Harry, I want you here this time." Once she was comfortable, she pulled her jumper up and unbuttoned her blouse. Then she grabbed his hands and put them on her chest. "Here," she said, "play with these." As he started stroking her, she started bouncing up and down on him. It wasn't much longer before they finished together.

She collapsed onto his chest, rubbing hers against his. Then they kissed.

Over the course of the next hour, she learned that the two Slytherins had indeed done their best to outfit Harry with quality, fashionable clothes, without spending every knut he had. They had, of course, taken out an exchange of services for their efforts. Apparently, they had had to "drain Harry's venom" several more times — three times with each girl before all was said and done. With judicious rest breaks, which for some reason required Harry to be completely naked while the girls selected and sorted clothes, it was three o'clock when Harry finally paid for everything. Not that he really minded.

The two girls had no sooner left the store to go get something to eat — they didn't dare let any of their friends actually see them with Harry — than Professor McGonagall made an appearance.

"'There you are! Where have you been? I've looked in this store three times for you,' she had said, quite crossly," Harry told Hermione. "I wasn't about to say that she couldn't find me because I was behind a _Forget-Me-Not_ and getting shagged by a couple of Slytherins! So, instead I said 'Honest, I never left this store! Maybe I was in a dressing room or you just missed me!'" He sighed. "I think she believed me. She did take a look at the clothes in the bags and said she was very impressed with my selections. I had obviously spent a lot of time examining and picking good quality. She said, 'From what I was told of you previous experience shopping I expected cheap and ill-fitting clothes that were better only in that they weren't for someone twice you size.'"

"She saw me to the edge of the village and told me to head back as she had to stay there until dinnertime. She figured I could safely make it the short distance back to the castle."

‿

They walked back to the dorms, where Harry hurriedly dumped his new clothes in his trunk before heading back down to the Common Room to meet with Hermione again. As they reached the ground floor on the way to the Great Hall, she leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Harry, I left my knickers in the dorm room." Then she ran a few quick steps in front of him before spinning around to face him. He was standing, staring at her gobsmacked at the revelation.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, blushing.

He shook his head dumbly, then suddenly grinned and blushed. "No, not at all." He ran the few steps between them and took her hand as they continued walking. She hoped nobody noticing how carefully she was walking. He stopped and kissed her twice on the way.

They were halfway through dinner, facing the Slytherin table when she noticed two Slytherin girls staring at Harry intently. She stiffened. Were those the two from this afternoon? She almost elbowed Harry to ask, but Harry didn't seem to notice them so she said nothing. However, only moments after she had glanced at him to see if he had seen the girls, he turned to face her. She felt his right hand glide up right leg pushing up her skirt until he reached the soft folds normally hidden by her knickers.

Her eyes shot wide open as he leaned close and gave her a quick kiss.

"Oi, you two," called out Ron sitting on the other side of Harry, "get a room."

Hermione hoped he couldn't see where Harry's hand was, nor what he was doing with his index finger. She knew her face was bright red, but she didn't dare grab his hand and move it away as she so desperately wanted to do. Any move she made that wasn't what one would expect at a dinner table would reveal exactly what Harry was doing.

He leaned back and softly said, "There, that ought to show them what I think." He straightened, gently tugging her skirt down. All she could do was stare at him and blink. Then she smiled. Yes, he had shown those bints their place. She happily returned to finishing her desert. She wondered if they could ditch Ron on the way back to the dorms so she could snog Harry senseless as a reward.

¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸.•*¨*•.¸

.

_If all them young lassies were milk in a cup_

_. . . And I were a kitten, I'd lick them all up_


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